


Like the grass in spring

by zetsubooty



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Drabble Collection, M/M, Making Out, Sleepy Cuddles, Spoilers, and only in part because I have no idea what canon's gonna do with it, dodging around having important talks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-31 16:53:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8586364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetsubooty/pseuds/zetsubooty
Summary: Another yoi drabble collection to separate out non-smutty ones! Please enjoy~~





	

**Author's Note:**

> spoilers for episode 7

Everything happens so quickly, stepping off the podium into a tide of  _ thank you _ and  _ congratulations _ and Minako-sensei nearly punching her way through the crowd to hug him. There are cameras and this time they’re close-up and there are questions and the kiss might still hum at the back of his mind and on his lips but now is not the time.

After, he can barely remember what they ate at the banquet. All he can remember is reaching over with his heart in his mouth, brushing fingers over the back of Victor’s hand. They’ve done as much before, but with a veil of fabric between, and besides, everything feels different after the kiss. And then, wonderful, Victor turning his hand without missing a beat in his conversation with a former rinkmate, grabbing Yuuri’s hand and squeezing it, pulling it over on his thigh. He wasn’t even supposed to be sitting there, was supposed to be eating with the other coaches, but Victor had stayed adamantly at his side, stealing someone’s chair without a bat of his eye.

There’s talk of drinks after and Phichit’s smile bright as a thousand suns. Yuuri really, really wants to be part of this moment for him, wants to watch him ride this high a little longer, show him how happy he is for his win, but.

But out of the corner of his eye, he catches Victor watching him with something like uncertainty underneath the pleasant mask. It’s mystifying, that he could feel any such thing. And yet it reminds him how much he still has to learn about Victor.

Yuuri tugs on Phichit’s sleeve. “Hey… Sorry, I’m more tired than I thought. Might have to duck out on tonight.”

Phichit starts to say something dismayed yet understanding, but his eyes flick to Yuuri’s right for half a second and his lips dip in a knowing smile. “That’s okay!” He clenches his fist, grin warm and full of challenge. “I’ll see you at the final, right?”

“Yeah, for sure!”

Phichit glances between them one last time, snickering into his hand as he turns. Yuuri watches him for a second longer, then turns enough to glance at Victor.

Part of him’s still reeling, part of him still thinks it’s far, far too good to be true, part of him’s appalled at his own boldness when he quickly slips his fingers back into Victor’s loosely curled hand. He’s rewarded with a flash of colour over Victor’s nose, a widening of his eyes, and suddenly, Yuuri feels immensely powerful. On the ice, he could do this to Victor, but now here, the confirmation that with music and lights and costumes stripped away, here, with a simple gesture, he can touch something inside of this man.

And yet he can’t shake the chatter of the crowd around them and the feeling that eyes are on them. This belongs to him and Victor, not to these people.

Victor turns his hand, lacing their fingers tighter together. “Shall we go?”

“Yeah.”

Victor tugs him towards the entrance, then pauses. “Do you want to go out somewhere, or…?”

Tongue dry, Yuuri meets his eyes steadily. “I want to go back to the hotel.” Edging out onto this new branch, he licks his lips and adds, “With you.”

Another look of surprise, delight, and the hand in his own squeezing tighter and Yuuri lets himself be pulled out into the night.

As they walk through the hotel lobby, Victor’s hand rests casually at his waist. He’s done it a thousand times, it should have long lost its pleasant kick inside his ribs. And maybe the edge of discomfort and confusion has worn off, maybe he’s better at schooling his expression--but maybe he doesn’t need to anymore. Yuuri glances at Victor out of the corner of his eye, only to catch him watching him with some heady mix of pride and covetousness that blossoms into a smile the instant he catches Yuuri’s gaze.

Yuuri looks away, pressing his lips together for a second before licking them. “We’re… Where are we going after this?”

They both know he means more than the elevator slowly ticking down the floors in front of them, but somehow, Yuuri doesn’t want the answer to that question just yet. Perhaps it’s fear, perhaps it’s just the sheer vastness of the question and his own feelings, perhaps merely the tiredness tugging at his eyes and his limbs..

“Your room has a better view.” The doors chime open. “Not that I expect I’ll be looking.” Something quiet in his tone sends a shiver down Yuuri’s spine.

_ What will we do when we get there? We’re adults, aren’t we? _

Victor squeezes him closer against his side as the doors close, and Yuuri lets himself be pulled into that contact, lets himself fully luxuriate in it, turn his head a little to rest his cheek against Victor’s shoulder.

Victor turns to him, cheek-to-cheek, voice a little petulant. “If I kiss you again, it won’t be a surprise.”

Yuuri lifts his head, pulling a face. “Was that the only reason you did it?”

Victor pops a smile at him, then pulls him around against his front. “Of course not.” His lips brush against his temple as the doors slide open again. Yuuri lingers with his head tucked against Victor’s shoulder for long enough that the doors start to close. Victor’s hand snaps out, stopping them, and then he sidles them into the hallway.

“I was thinking how soft your lips were when I touched them.”

Finally raising his head, Yuuri squints at him. “No, you weren’t.”

Victor seems more amused than anything at being caught out. “Fine. But I’m thinking about it now.”

He blushes, unable to hold eye contact. Victor’s hands are light on him, one at his hip and the other cupping his elbow through the suit jacket, but there’s a subtle eagerness to them. His cheek slides against Yuuri’s with the slight catch of stubble, his breath a phantom touch down his collar.

“I’m also thinking about that wicked little tongue of yours. Yuuri--”

He grabs Victor’s face in both hands, pulling him so they’re nose-to-nose. Though neither of them can really see, he lets his gaze bore into Victor.

“Stop trying lines on me. You already know damn well I love you.”

_ Did I just say that _ ?

Making some abstract pronouncement from in front of a camera in a language Victor barely understands was safe, easy. But this is neither, and some fierce part of himself he’s only just learning revels in it.

Victor’s hands tighten the slightest bit before sliding around his back. “Okay,” he laughs out with an air of contrition, “Okay. No more. Just this: can I kiss you again?”

Yuuri inhales slowly, savouring the moment and Victor’s nose pressed against his own like he’s too eager to wait for the answer.

“Yes.”

Before, it was like being slammed full-force by Victor’s feelings, guessed at, wondered at, but not believed. Before, he barely had a chance to notice how it felt, other than glorious. This time it’s leisurely, Victor taking his lower lip between his own like the most fragile flower and then nudging forward with the slightest exhale that seems to brush down Yuuri’s scalp.

He’s not sure Victor’s kisses would ever stop being a surprise.

And not out of some lack of confidence in this, whatever it is, or in himself. Just in the way his body thrills to it, the way every movement of Victor’s lips is an unpredicted step in a dance that Yuuri’s still catching up on. Yet it’s easy, somehow, to fall in step with Victor, to let his hands drift down to his shoulder, his neck, to let their breath become a delicate push and pull of the space between them, the gap that feels suddenly so slight and all the more exquisite for the act of crossing it.

“Yuuri…” Victor shifts his hands to his hips, giving him a slight push backwards. But when Yuuri steps back with a sigh, he cups his face, kissing him again.

But now he’s reminded that they’re standing in the middle of a hallway. Yuuri drifts back, both of them prolonging the contact until it’s not possible without Victor following. He worries for a moment that he won’t. Fears that he will.

“Victor, I’m…”

Victor sets a finger over his lips, shushing gently and stepping in for another kiss. But Yuuri bats his hand away and grabs his coat, pushing him back a little.

_ I don’t want to say this out here! But I’m not sure what’ll happen if I let a door close behind us. _

“Victor, I don’t know...what I’m ready for.”

He’s glad of the bright lights, glad he doesn’t miss each shift in Victor’s expression: surprise, consideration, and then something so sweet and relaxed and adoring and he could drink in that expression for hours and never be sated.

“That’s fine.” He pushes close, pressing a chaste kiss to Yuuri’s forehead. “That’s totally fine.” He nuzzles his way down to nose against his cheek. “Perhaps that will be  _ my _ katsudon, when you win your gold. Oh! Or whenever you’re read--”

“I told you to quit it,” he grumbles, pulling him in for another kiss.

“Hey, that wasn’t even close to a line!” Victor draws back to pout at him, but then shifts back to that tender expression. “And I mean it. When you’re ready. For tonight… What do you want to do tonight? Do we talk? Make out? Hold hands? Should w--”

Yuuri covers his mouth with a fond sigh. “First, I’d like to get out of this hallway.”

“Great idea.”

The door can’t close behind them quickly enough, darkness and privacy a soothing bath. Yuuri kicks out of his shoes, reaching for the light switch, but stops himself. Victor’s silhouetted against the lights of the city, arms pulled in like he’s taking off his gloves but the movement hidden behind the width of his shoulders and the drape of his long coat.

So instead, Yuuri shrugs out of his suit jacket and then steps forward in darkness, forward to slip his arms around Victor’s waist. Then up, up to his shoulders to pull the coat and blazer back until Victor twists out of them and into his arms.

He wishes there were more neutral territory, a couch, perhaps, but all there is in the room is the bed and a pair of armchairs. Yuuri gathers his breath and his courage and propels Victor back towards the bed.

Victor scootches over on it, sinking down with plenty of room left for Yuuri. Yuuri narrows his eyes.

_ Don’t think I’m so delicate as all that. _

Cheeks burning, Yuuri clambers on and across the blanket, coming to straddle Victor’s hips. He watches him for a second, chest rising and falling rapidly, watches the quick widening of Victor’s eyes and the look, the look he hadn’t had a name for before but now, now he thinks it’s desire. Especially with the slow roll of Victor’s hips under him, the heavy way his palms slide up his thighs.

Overwhelmed, Yuuri falls forward, hiding his face against Victor’s neck. Which leaves him with his dick squashed against Victor’s stomach. Yuuri inhales sharply, nuzzling closer, his hand unconsciously stealing up to slide into Victor’s hair.

_ Something relatively neutral, something to stop me from just saying fuck it and flinging myself off this cliff. _

“Earlier… When I couldn’t sleep, I ended up just watching you.”

Victor’s hands pause where they’re stroking slowly up his back. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Made me feel a little more relaxed, at least at the time. Feeling your breathing, and thinking about stroking your hair--”

“Well, why didn’t you?” Victor cuts in, sounding distinctly cheated.

Yuuri pushes himself up. “Because I didn’t know…! I didn’t know  _ this _ ,” he gestures emphatically down at Victor’s chest.

Victor gives him a peculiar look, then curls his arms around him, drawing him down into a quick peck. “You’re shockingly dense,” he murmurs against Yuuri’s cheek.

He wants to protest but he also wants very badly to kiss Victor but before he can do either, Victor’s rolling them over until he’s half on top of Yuuri.

“What’re you--”

“How about now, then?” Victor raises his head, smiling at him with that same gentleness he’d worn all those hours ago. “Or is there something still unclear?”

He says it flippantly, but there’s still a lot that Yuuri isn’t sure about, but he’s not certain he can bring himself to ask right now. So instead, he pulls Victor’s head down on his chest, letting his fingers twist in the warm strands of his hair.

“Yuuri.” There’s that note of petulance, and worse, disappointment. “You’re keyed up over something.” He shakes off Yuuri’s hand, fixing him with a suspicious look. “Did I hurt you somewhere just now? What’s bothering you? Did I say something wrong? Or was there something I didn’t say? Do you need me to say I love you too?”

Yuuri stares down at him with steadily rising outrage before grabbing the pillow out from under his head and bringing it down solidly on Victor’s head.

“Hey! Wha--”

“Don’t say something like that like it’s just… Just another one of your…” He can’t even find words, and he feels in danger of crying again, and this all suddenly seems like an utterly terrible idea.

“Like it’s just another line?”

There’s something a little injured in Victor's expression, and all Yuuri can think is  _ good _ .

“Exactly.” He loves Victor, of that he’s more than sure, but maybe there’s some part of him that still doesn’t entirely trust him, and he hates both of them a little for that. “I need you to take me seriously. That’s all that I ever really wanted.”

Victor opens his mouth, and Yuuri just knows he’s about to come out with something reassuring, flippant, insincere, and he’s ready to throw him out of the room.

But instead, Victor just lowers his head to Yuuri’s chest. After a second, he wedges his hands up under Yuuri’s shoulders, gripping his dress shirt tight.

Yuuri stares at the ceiling, the pillow still clutched in one fist.

_ Did I seriously just cow Victor Nikiforov into silence? _

Feeling his temper drain away, he releases the pillow, bringing his hand up to drop heavy on Victor’s head.

“There’s questions I won’t ask you now. But when I do...don’t you dare lie to me.” He strokes Victor’s hair deliberately. “Promise me that.”

Victor comes up on one elbow, searching his face unsmilingly. “I promise.”

The knot of his chest and shoulders releases, and suddenly he feels very, very tired. Closing his eyes, he grabs for Victor, pulling him up so their foreheads press together. “For tonight...will you stay here with me?”

“I will.”

Victor moves to kiss him, a soft dry brush of lips that feels like a seal on his promise. Before he can draw back, Yuuri cups his face, opening his mouth and making a soft noise at the back of his throat. Victor surges against him, kissing as if it were his only way to speak. And this, this, Yuuri can trust, even though he’s not so naive to think a kiss can’t be deceptive. But whatever else it is or might be, it’s bliss, Victor’s tongue slicking over and between his lips and his fingertips grazing Yuuri’s jaw and hunger resonating in his every movement.

Except then he sits up, twisting to slide off the bed.

“If I’m going to stay, I might as well fetch my toothbrush.” And with an almost jaunty step, Victor scoops up his coat and slips out the door.

Head spinning, Yuuri lies back, tucking the pillow under his head after a second.

_ Maybe I should text Victor and tell him to bring his pillow. _

Like hitting the boards, it occurs to him: what if Victor isn’t coming back?

_ What if it’s too much? He’s not without his own fragility _ . Yuuri rolls on his side, staring at the door as if it could tell him.

“Crap…” He curls over, hiding his face behind his hands.

After a moment’s panic, though, he makes himself sit up. Either Victor is coming back or he isn’t, and in the meantime, he can at least get ready for bed.

He’s back sitting on the edge of the bed, clad in boxers and t-shirt, when there’s a knock at the door. Heart in his mouth, he goes to open it.

Pillow tucked under his arm, Victor stands in the doorway in a long robe, and all Yuuri can think is,  _ did he bring that? No wonder his luggage was so heavy… _ He lets Victor in, feeling more settled than he has all evening. Victor crosses the room to drop his pillow on the bed, then returns to switch on the bathroom light, smiling winningly at Yuuri.

“You going to brush your teeth?”

Yuuri starts guiltily. “Ah, no, I already did while I was waiting…”

Victor waves his toothbrush dejectedly. “We were going to do it together! Yuuriiiiii…”

“You never said anything like that.” Still, when he pushes Victor into the bathroom, he follows, picking up his still-wet toothbrush. Victor beams at him, standing far too close and managing to elbow him several times.

Then finally he’s dragging his feet back to the bed for what he hopes is the last time. He reaches for the bedside light, but glances over his shoulder at Victor.

Any question he’d had fizzles on his tongue.

Victor pulls an inner tie loose, letting the robe fall open to bare his skin to the lamp’s warm glow. Fluidly, he steps forward, letting it fall from his shoulders like shed wings.

Yuuri’s frozen, mouth open and heat rising to his face. Victor finally seems to register, stopping with his head cocked slightly.

“What?”

“You’re going to sleep like that??” he manages to splutter out.

“Yeah?” Victor looks down at himself, as though trying to search out the fault. “I always sleep like this. It didn’t seem to bother you before.”

_ But it did! Though maybe ‘bother’ isn’t quite the right word. _ Sighing heavily, Yuuri turns to pull back the covers and climbs into bed.

Victor follows him quickly, heat against his back before he’s fully settled in. Yuuri’s blush returns full force, especially when Victor nuzzles in and gently nips the nape of his neck. But with an inhale, Victor rolls away to switch out the light, then back again, arm encircling Yuuri’s waist at a respectable height.

Yuuri lies quietly for a moment, then turns his head. Then rolls back against Victor, twisting so he can nose against his cheek, find his lips.

_ Victor can meet me where I stand. So… _

Before he can tell himself it  _ is _ , in fact, a big deal, Yuuri sits up, stripping off his t-shirt. And then, after a second’s hesitation, wriggling out of his boxers as well. Feeling somehow both shivery and too hot, he dives back under the covers, wedging his left arm under to curl behind Victor’s shoulder and wrapping the other around his back.

Victor slides a warm arm around him, brushing a kiss just under Yuuri’s lashes. “You keep surprising me,” he murmurs sleepily, somehow an admission and a promise all in one.

**Author's Note:**

> when will I write Phichit doing more than just getting ditched for makeouts my son deserves better


End file.
